


Hold on to whatever you find baby...

by supercalifragili



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2843123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercalifragili/pseuds/supercalifragili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s intolerable, Liam’s voice, his width of his palms, the length of his coated fingers inside him, the thickness he wishes could map on his body like tattoos. He looks at the fingerprints in the morning when he stands by the mirror of their bathroom and touches them, pain seeps in his veins, trickles in his blood with power. He craves for Liam, obeying to a principle of hedonism he can’t abstain from, it’s somewhat of a selfish pleasure seeking crave that scratches his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold on to whatever you find baby...

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know when I had it in my head to write this, uhm, I think this is from that time when One Direction met the Duchess of Cambridge and Prince William, but there's no actual correlation to the event. Liam and Zayn… I’m so done with these two.

It’s a charged ride, the one they take together. The steady buzz of the car engine making Zayn anxious as they get back to Liam’s, a seeming line of discomfort and strung pleasure constricted in the way he can’t still touch Liam’s skin, all dressed in black, only his face clear and he can’t yet. The hold of Liam’s hand on his thigh makes him frantic with desire, a thrum following how Liam’s fingers rub and stroke the inseam of his thigh, how the grip feels as he squeezes gently. Zayn closes his eyes imagining spray bottles, settling his breathing that picks up again when Liam’s warm hand skims upwards over his tight jeans; his Nokia vibrates, a call blinking on the veiled screen covered by the fabric of his dark pants.

Liam continues his kneading as Zayn picks the phone in his hands and settles it on his ear, Louis’s voice shrilly on the line

“You left early, is Payno with you?” He doesn’t answer, Liam’s worked the zip of his jeans open beneath his jacket, his wide palm closing around Zayn’s shaft and it knocks the air of him

“You- you two are sick!” Louis squeaks, Liam chuckles and takes the phone off Zayn’s hands, his other one pumping loosely on his length. It’s too much, he feels like an oak barrel containing fermenting wine, its wood turning darker as seconds pass away in the speed of Liam’s car, a saturation that outpours the pores of his skin, blurry lights dash quickly out of his eyes.

“See you, Lou” his raspy voice says, his thumb pressing lightly on Zayn’s slit making his eyes close, mouth left agape as he bends on himself

“You sex-” Liam ends the call with a grin on his face, Zayn gets his phone back and lays his head on Liam’s shoulder

“I’m hot, Liam” he kisses along the line of his neck up to his ears, Liam humming in response

“Two more minutes, baby, we’re almost there” he shushes, a tight grip on Zayn’s cock makes him gasp on Liam’s neck and lick soothingly at the blemish left there, purples and red hazing together in his eyes.

Paddy leaves them be when they step out of the car, he parks Liam’s car, takes his and drives away with a _Be safe_ left in the cold wind of November, the cool breeze of the night spiking the hairs of Zayn's nape.

A shot fires when their eyes meet, hands touch, mouths kiss, legs intertwines and hearts connect. Passion flows freely like a current of water, like jets of fire burning their skin, trembling and sweating in the coldness of their room.

There is no carnality more powerful, there is no more ripping touch seeming to the one Zayn experiences every time Liam approaches, his diversion reflecting his stance towering over his body and with that his sizzling hands stroke his sides and thumbs pressing a move idly contouring the shape of a heart tattoo staining his hipbone.

“Clothes” Liam pushes him against the wall, cold surface shocking Zayn out of his anxious loom.

They move like danseurs, feet stepping and tip toeing on a wooden floor that feels like fire, a burn that doesn’t reach the nervous system of their brain, their movements follow desire and completion discarding the fear of burned feet.

They persist the tide of conventionality of gentle time keepings, like sweet gestures and hushed _I love you’s_ ; they touch, they grab and pull away their clothes, a scattered road of scarfs and pants trailing their way into the bedroom, Zayn shivering even if the temperature in the place is scalding.

Not only a shot, thunders resound, lightings strike, every bit of Mother Nature booms in their ears, blitzes count heart thumps, strikes and rumbles of bolts riving their bodies with every single fingertip sliding on their skin. Zayn doesn’t see anything else, a tunnel vision obscuring every single piece of the world around them; there in his focus, the clear sighting of a man he knows so well becomes tangible when his length in enclosed by Liam’s mouth, a hot wet cavity that ceaselessly sucks the hardness of his cock, throat stretching for him.

Moonlight illuminates Liam’s skin, the flush in his cheeks like stains of blood in his eyes, the vigour in those brown iris sing lullabies of magic and kindness, a fire underneath, a fire burning on his skin, the surface of awaiting peeling off Zayn’s skin when they’re just there, the two of them, the familiarity of their senses pulling along each other in dark hallways that Zayn remembers Liam coated with gasps and wrenching moans, those pink lips turning like seeming magnets of love, their mouths touching and sparking with renovated hunger, a desire that overwhelms Zayn that lays there on the bed, skin under pressure in this stringing night.

There, in close resemblance to that of the prey that is paralyzed with fear to the predator, Zayn stills in awaiting staring into Liam’s eyes for him to pounce, but Zayn is not afraid- those hands feel like refuge, like safety, love.

They’re not drunk, but Zayn feels he is to the point he knows he might faint, to the point he knows his soul might leave his body, a short circuit not connecting even in a simple set up, voltage and resistance zeroing each other in his mind where his body crackles with snaps of whips and clamps pinching his skin.

It’s intolerable, Liam’s voice, his width of his palms, the length of his coated fingers inside him, the thickness he wishes could map on his body like tattoos. He looks at the fingerprints in the morning when he stands by the mirror of their bathroom and touches them, pain seeps in his veins, trickles in his blood with power. He craves for Liam, obeying to a principle of hedonism he can’t abstain from, it’s somewhat of a selfish pleasure seeking crave that scratches his mind.

More to it forms as the tip of Liam’s cock is inside him, light pushes following long ones as he settles deep within him and Zayn is patient, he sits and watches people, he waits kindly doesn’t rush anything, but he doesn’t for Liam, the need caves inside his head like a disease, a virus almost and he moves against him, chasing the yearning ravenousness of what Liam offers him, what he gives, what he thrusts slowly and then in a merciless crescendo pounds and chokes Zayn of his words, only stuttered moans and groans leaving his bruised mouth. He loves the rawness of it all, Liam’s cock, the drag, its tempo- everything.

He refuges himself into the bracketing shape of Liam’s body, Liam’s hands by his head, holding him tightly down on the bed, his eyes not leaving him even for a second feeding off his outpoured emotions, the silent open mouthed kisses and the drag of Liam’s thickness inside him, rubbing in the cavity of his heated and tight skin. He kisses Liam’s fiery lips shutting the moans leaving his mouth against the ravaging bites of Liam’s teeth, a heat coiling insistently in his belly, a gargle bubbling along the thrusts of Liam inside him, his voice, the shushes, the _You’re so good baby_ at every pronounced hit, something he will never get used to.

“Liam, fuck” he whispers into Liam’s mouth, Liam’s lips against him as he shudders, coming copiously between them, hot spurts covering their chest as Liam comes too inside him, pumping quickly and pressing his lips to Zayn’s forehead, his hair damp and brushed away from his face

“I love you” Liam bites onto his red lips by his collarbones, last spurts coming out of Zayn’s slit as he descends from his haze, some place he can’t still describe with his head, panted red and green and such a wide gradient of colours he can’t list, a place Liam collects him from with loving murmurs a comforting words.

Liam brings him there and Zayn is fine with it if Liam is the one he comes back too when he opens his eyes, a warm smile he won’t ever get used to, something he’ll keep forever within him. Zayn keeps him in his arms, Liam’s body heavy on his own but he revels in the solidness it gives, a sense of safety he can’t find anywhere else, or anybody else, he breathes in and out sniffing Liam’s skin, sweaty and salty against the buds of his tongue when he bites his tanned shoulder, Liam bringing his arms under Zayn’s neck and kissing his neck leisurely, his hold around Zayn tightening just a little bit more. Zayn loves nights of this sort.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Title taken from I Don't Trust Myself (With Loving You) by John Mayer...


End file.
